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They enter the home together, Mingyu’s hands tightly clutching the back of Seungcheol’s thick uniform. The others tiredly soldier on before them, dispersing to their own spaces without preamble, only Chan remembers to at least shoot Seungcheol and Mingyu an acknowledging nod before shuffling away to his and Jihoon’s shared room.
Seungcheol returns the gesture but Mingyu doesn’t, eyes boring through the back of Seungcheol’s head, staring at his cropped black hair. Mingyu feels nauseous, the smell of death clinging to his nostrils, refusing to fade. His skin itches with it; he can feel the dried blood on his skin, the liquid seeping through his uniform, tattooing itself onto Mingyu as a reminder of what they’d—what he’d—done.
It’s quiet, Seungcheol leading Mingyu to their room. They take off their boots when they’re inside. They’ll need to give it a wash soon. Mingyu plops down on the bed, stuck in a numbing daze, brain replaying the same scenes again and again, the screams blasting inside his skull. He’s pulled out of it when Seungcheol addresses him, and he looks up to find a gentle gaze fixed on him.
“Not gonna change?” Seungcheol says while divesting himself of the final layer—his undershirt. Still wearing his trousers, he walks closer to Mingyu when the man slightly shakes his head, eyes back to staring at the tiled floor.
Mingyu automatically reaches out to wrap his arms around Seungcheol’s middle, burying his face in Seungcheol’s stomach, uncaring of his unclean body. The smell of death, metallic and bitter, clings to Seungcheol too, but beneath it Mingyu can pick out hints of his natural musk, a sweet note only Seungcheol carries, and he inhales deep, chasing the honey to evade the acrid. Seungcheol holds him close by the nape, fingers tangling in Mingyu’s hair, carding through it soothingly.
“I need a shower.” Mingyu finally says, pulling back and craning his neck up to look at Seungcheol who’s sporting a soft, sad smile.
“Let’s go before the hot water runs out.”
Mingyu knows Seungcheol prefers cold showers. Neither of them mention it.
Seungcheol helps him undress and they finally step into the shower once they’re rid of their clothes. Mingyu eyes Seungcheol’s body, from top to bottom, lingering on every patch of skin that has skidded, flaky red marks on them. He notices Seungcheol doing the same to him and turns on the water.
The initial splash is extremely hot and he quickly brings the temperature down until it’s a pleasant lukewarm, letting his eyes flutter closed as the water trails down his skin. He hears the click of a bottle and soon enough there are gentle fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp. Mingyu leans down and dips his head to make it easier, reveling in the comforting touch.
He lets Seungcheol take care of him, as selfish as it may be, but he knows Seungcheol well enough to know it’s what Seungcheol needs too. Some semblance of normalcy. A small, inconsequential reprieve from the depravity. A chance to feel adequate, like he’s able to do what he’s vowed to—able to protect Mingyu, to protect them all.
Seungcheol’s leads Mingyu to wash the shampoo out and Mingyu finally opens his eyes when he steps out the spray of water, nudging Seungcheol to take his place. He feels a little less foggy, is able to focus on Seungcheol’s face, looks into his eyes without anything else flashing in his mind. He leans forward to press a lingering kiss to Seungcheol’s forehead, feeling Seungcheol’s hands find their way onto his waist, gripping.
Mingyu grabs the shampoo bottle and pours a little onto his palm, repeating the motions through Seungcheol’s hair.
It’s quiet, but it doesn’t feel oppressive. Doesn’t feel heavy. At least not right now, while they’re here, together, washing away their sins with the scent of lavender.